Know Your Enemies
by Limyaael
Summary: Melkor's just been released from Mandos. Now he's going to take revenge- if he can figure out who's who. Rated mostly for violent OOCness.


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Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from the Silmarillion; Tolkien and his estates do. Nor am I making any profit from this fanfic. I'm only playing with the characters, and promise to put them right back where I found them (in-character) when I'm done.

This is a Silmarillion parody fic, taking place just after Melkor was released from Mandos, and from his point-of-view. It involves a lot of the same concepts as "The Game of the Gods," and can be read as a prequel to that, though it's not necessary.

Everyone is very, very OOC. Also, there are violent and sexual references.

Enjoy!

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Know Your Enemies

Occasionally I think back, and remember it the way it was- the way it _really_ was. There are so many sides of the story that were never told, and all because they were mine. They should have been told. I didn't do it. I had good reason. The Elves are lying.  
  
But if I told the story the way I really remember it, from inside my own head, then someone would accuse _me_ of lying. Just because I sowed some lies doesn't mean I don't recognize the truth. It just makes it a little harder, that's all.  
  
So I will tell it the way I remember it, but in third-person. That makes everything better, doesn't it? When I was Melkor, and not Morgoth--  
  
No, I still am Melkor. I don't have to accept the name that the psychotic Fëanor- who learned a great deal from me, by the way, and don't listen to what he said about it- gave me if I don't want to. I am Melkor. I am He Who Arises in Might. I'm not the Dark Power of the World.  
  
Not that it's not rather nice to hear the Elves calling me that from the torture chambers. And not that I don't have that engraved everywhere in Angband. But that's only to inspire fear in everyone else. Really.  
  
You'll see it when I tell you my story. How could anyone resist hating the Noldor? After what they did to me?  
  
And oh, yes, you'll listen. It's not as though you're going anywhere until I say so, Húrin.  
  
-------  
  
"Oh, please? _Please_pleasepleasepleaseplease."  
  
"And this is the eloquence that remains to you, Nienna?" Ulmo asked, leaning back in his chair. "Counseling the troubled in Mandos must be harder work than I thought."  
  
Nienna glared at him, then turned it into a smile of pity that Melkor was all too familiar with. During the ages that he'd lain "alone" in Mandos, Nienna had crept in all the time to visit him, weep for him, and offer him advice he didn't want. He shuddered, thinking that he'd had to ask her for help in pleading before the Valar, but it wasn't as though he had any other help. He sent a sideways glare at Námo, who was looking at the ceiling. _Probably missing his wife already_, Melkor thought, with vicious spite and perfect truth. Other than Nienna's pleading, the only sounds he'd been able to hear in his imprisonment were those of the two Valar's noisy lovemaking.  
  
"I understand that the toils of your position often give you a sharp tongue, dear co-power of the world," said Nienna. "But it was your choice to be alone, while it was not Melkor's choice to be imprisoned in Mandos." She turned back towards the important seats and groveled again. "_Please_, Manwë? He's been good. He's learned things, really he has."  
  
Melkor rolled his eyes. Manwë was nodding and smiling like the blind fool he'd always been, when Melkor would speak of might in the Void and Manwë would remind him that "can" could sometimes be used. He would say that his brother could go free. Melkor had no doubt of it.  
  
Varda, on the other hand...  
  
She was giving him a long, slow look, and Melkor had to fight the temptation to flinch. Varda never knew when to take the stars out of her eyes. They were beaming away madly, even in the odd mingled light that filled Valinor and stung Melkor's sensitive eyes, and Melkor thought she had chosen to arrange them in the Valacirca today just to irritate him.  
  
"I can understand that it was not his choice to stay in Mandos, Nienna," said Varda, as though she were speaking to a Maia. She often had that tone around Nienna, Melkor had noticed- or at least he'd noticed before he was unfairly shut up for three Ages. It seemed that some things never changed. "But there was the little matter of trying to break the world."  
  
"He's sorry," said Nienna brightly.  
  
"Is he?" Varda turned to face Melkor. "I would like to hear him say that for himself."  
  
Melkor thought about how little she would understand if he tried to explain, and then sighed. If he ever wanted out of here and away from the light that pained his sensitive eyes and the blasted humming noise in the background- he still hadn't figured out what that was- then he had to give her a satisfactory answer.  
  
"I am sorry," he said. "I know that you didn't understand my intent, and I am sorry for what came of that." He forced himself to meet Varda's eyes for one moment, then turned and looked at Manwë. That was a good choice. Manwë beamed; he was always beaming. Melkor breathed more easily. "It was an unfortunate failure to communicate."  
  
"Unfortunate-" spluttered Varda.  
  
"Failure to communicate-" spluttered Tulkas, who had apparently decided that he could stop picking his nose now and join the conversation.   
  
"Of course it was," said Manwë, beaming and nodding. "But I trust that it will not happen again, Melkor? Thou wilt speak with us, and with the Children of Eru, and repair the wrongs thou hast handed out?"  
  
The humming noise was starting to truly get on his nerves. Melkor thought he would have agreed to anything just then that would get him out of that room. "Of course," he said quickly.  
  
"You would actually allow him to speak to the Children?" asked Ulmo. "That might be dangerous."  
  
"Oh _yes_, Ulmo," said Oromë, who had been so quiet that Melkor had almost forgotten he was there. "You care so deeply about the Quendi that you just wanted to leave them in Middle-earth for Melkor to pick on. I say keep him inside the gates of Valmar for a little while. That way, we can look at who he talks to."  
  
"I never said that I wanted to leave the Quendi to Melkor's mercy, Oromë, as you would know if you paid attention to me. And why are you resurrecting this old debate? We haven't argued it for Three Ages-"  
  
"I'm not resurrecting it. _You're_ the one always referring to it, with your grins and your sly hints-"  
  
Melkor grinned slightly as they began to bicker. Good always did turn on itself, the Valar engaging in a never ending righteousness-measuring contest. Then he saw Varda's gaze on him, and wiped the smile off his face, trying to replace it with the painfully earnest expression they seemed to like on the Elves.  
  
"Keep him inside the gates of Valmar?" Varda asked in the weary tones of someone who knows she's going to lose the debate. "That's not a bad idea. We would have to monitor whom he could speak with, of course..."  
  
"That is an excellent solution!" said Manwë, smiling blissfully at nothing. The smile on his face might, if worn by any other Vala, have made Melkor think that that Vala had tried some of Yavanna's "special" mushrooms, but Manwë always looked that way. It was one of the many reasons that Melkor had departed the side of Eru and the other Valar. No one could smile like that all the time and not be supremely irritating. "We will keep him in Valmar and let him speak to the Elves who might benefit from his wisdom." He focused on Melkor again, and turned up his beam a few notches. Melkor winced, but his brother didn't appear to notice. "Thou wilt meet the Vanyar first. I think thou wilt like them."  
  
"Who are the Vanyar?" asked Melkor warily. He was glad that he was apparently getting out of Mandos, but he didn't like it when his brother looked that way.  
  
Manwë just chuckled and said, "Thou wilt see," while his eyes twinkled. Melkor shuddered a little, and then turned when Nienna tugged on his hand.  
  
"We won, then?" she asked.  
  
Melkor nodded.  
  
Nienna squealed and flung her arms around his neck. "I knew we could do it!" she whispered fiercely in his ear. "You believed in yourself, and that was all it took." Abruptly she sniffled and drew back from him. "I'm about to cry-I'm so _happy_-"  
  
Melkor drew back as hastily as he could, and noticed Varda and Tulkas and Ulmo all watching him narrowly. He would try to avoid them, of course, and keep his smile on his face whenever he did have to meet them.   
  
But all things considered, he was willing to try living in Valmar.  
  
"Look at the time," Námo said abruptly, standing and almost running towards the door. "I must get back. Vairë- that is to say, judgments to make, dooms to pronounce, Eru to listen to, that sort of thing, you know how it is." He slammed the door open, and was gone.  
  
Melkor grimaced. _Yes, especially with_ that_, I am more than willing to try living in Valmar._  
  
--------  
  
Several of the interminable Tree-days later, Melkor was willing to give anything to make it stop.  
  
The light had turned out to come from two trees, one silver, one gold. Melkor had hated them on sight. He had known Yavanna was involved with their creation, for one thing, and Yavanna had insisted on creating trees and animals and putting them to sleep in what was quite clearly Melkor's realm. And the light hurt his eyes, used to the darkness of Mandos for so long. No one would listen when he complained, though. Even Nienna seemed to think he was being childish. Melkor wouldn't be surprised to find out she had something to do with the Trees, too.  
  
Then there were the Vanyar. That humming noise was them, forever singing the praises of Manwë and sometimes the other Valar. They were everywhere. No matter where Melkor went in Valmar, he could hear them, and he saw them only slightly less often, wandering about with vacant smiles and even more vacant eyes, singing their guts out. Melkor wished with all his might that he was back home in Angband. Orcs didn't sing if he didn't tell them to, and they didn't have golden hair that flashed back the painful light of the Trees, and they didn't try to get him to join in a singalong, which Melkor hated most of all.  
  
He had heard that there were other Elves somewhere, called Noldor and Teleri, but he never saw any of them. Therefore, when Manwë finally gave him permission to go beyond the gates of Valmar, Melkor still had to rely on a Vanya to guide him into the east of Valinor. He hated doing it. It wasn't that he couldn't trick one of them into doing it; the danger was that they would sing. And sing. And sing.   
  
_One more rendition of_ "How Great Is Our Manwë,"_ and I will ruin my redeemed image by trying to strangle someone_, he thought. _And while that's not quite as bad as the breaking of the world, Varda will find some way to spin it into putting me back into Mandos, I'm sure._  
  
He had barely finished the thought when a Vanya hurried past his window. Two things attracted Melkor's attention about the Elf at once. First, he moved with an unusual sense of purpose, which might indicate that he could keep his mind on things for more than five minutes at a time.  
  
Second, he was _not_ singing.  
  
Melkor hurried out of his house- very tasteful, but only for someone who actually liked bright colors and high airy windows- and caught the Elf. "Pardon me," he said, smiling at him, and receiving the usual vacant smile in return. This one looked a bit brighter than most of the rest, though, which gave Melkor hope. "I haven't seen you before, and was wondering if you came from outside Valmar?"  
  
"Why, yes," said the Elf. Melkor blinked, and squinted. Though the Elf was a perfect Vanya in appearance- golden and stupid- he had an odd accent. "I come from Tirion, in fact."  
  
Melkor blinked again, then smiled. This was perfect! "I have long wanted to visit the outer lands of Valinor. Would you be willing to serve as a guide?"  
  
"But you're a Vala!" said the Vanya in confusion. "Can't you guide yourself?"  
  
Melkor gave his most charming smile, while thinking, _Why, yes, I could have, if Mandos and the others hadn't stolen three Ages of my life._ "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Melkor. I was recently freed from Mandos, and am trying to enjoy life in Valinor as fully as possible."  
  
The Vanya's eyes had widened in fascination. "I heard of you! You tried to destroy the world once, didn't you?" There was a faint distaste in his voice, but it was mixed with curiosity.  
  
_Dim_, Melkor noted. _Nice, but dim._ "Why, yes, I did," he said. "But I'm better now. I'm just looking for a guide, so that I can get to know the Noldor and the Teleri better."  
  
"I can help you, then," said the Elf happily. Of course, Melkor was coming to think that sadness and other such emotions were foreign to the Vanyar. _Nothing like the beautiful cowering they did at Cuiviénen_, he thought wistfully. "I know both of them well. Come with me, and I'll guide you back. I was just about done in Tirion, anyway. Just buying a gift for a cousin of mine."  
  
"What is your name?" Melkor asked politely, though he didn't really care. _Dim as Manwë before Eä,_ he thought. _I hope I can put up with his chatter long enough to get some use out of him._  
  
"Finrod." The Elf gave him a brilliant smile. "Come along now, Melkor. I think my family would be very interested in meeting you."  
  
Melkor smiled indulgently. _If the rest of his family is as dim as he is, I shall get some use out of them indeed._  
  
--------  
  
It's no use muttering at me about names, you know. I _know_ that Elves in Valinor had a mess of names- Quenya, and names in their own dialects, and mother-names, and father-names, and names that I'm convinced they made up on the spur of the moment. It doesn't matter. I remember them best by the names that they used when they came and whined at me about their Silmarils, so those are the names I'll use.  
  
Was that you muttering under your breath? Tsk, tsk, Húrin. You know that your children will earn a little extra torment for that.  
  
Well, yes, I would have tortured them anyway. It's pleasant to see that you're beginning to understand me. I hope that you will understand what happened when I met Finrod's wretched family...  
  
  
  



End file.
